Affection
by Perfections-Cat
Summary: There are many ways to drive him to hate. This is simply another route. AU. ItaSasu.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** So, I've finally been convinced to write ItaSasu. Because it's twisted and yet oddly hot. The idea came from as I contemplated what could Itachi do to his brother that would draw out a similar reaction as murdering the clan that didn't include umm. . that. So, this is an AU version of something that could possibly drive Sasuke to hate his brother yet pursue him endlessly. Again. DON'T READ IF THIS ISN'T YOUR THING. **/Author's Note**

When he had entered this room, not once had he considered that it would be this bad. That he would now be lying there on the floor, fingers groping about for something to grasp, back arching painfully into the mats. But for all the pain binding his body, his eyes gave no hint of it. Instead, they focused securely on his brother's figure. Hating every breath that spilled from his figure, every step that was taken to his horribly prone body.

And that was all he could do at that moment – glare. As if those eyes of his had the ability to send Death upon whomever he wished with just a glance. His couldn't. . . but Itachi's. . . .

From some unknown depth, a growl wrenched itself out. Hating, hating, hating. Always hating. He loathed the way his brother could just toss him about like this. Like nothing. Why was he always _nothing_?

But even worse than the bruising rising to his skin - claiming muscle, claiming bone on its mission outward – and marking him as inferior was the way his brother looked at him. Not as if he meant nothing. No, as though he were even beneath that. Unworthy of nothingness. And yet. . .there was that glint of something else. Cold gratification. Even colder want.

There was the smallest twitch of his brother's lips as Itachi kicked him in the side. The pain was enough to make him roll over, hands flying to the sharp bite over his ribs. For a moment, the world blacked out, eyes screwed shut, and all he could do was gasp as Itachi descended upon him. All touch, sound. Not a single visual to confirm the act.

His brother wasn't heavy. Not imposing in the way that thought of him tended to be. But this was only because he knew Itachi was holding off. One eye slowly opened before closing again. Straddling him, feet planted firmly by each hip. More of a crouch really. He just happened to be underneath.

Why did it always feel that way? Never worth the effort to his brother. Because Sasuke was fully convinced it wasn't care that kept the elder Uchiha from bearing down on him with all of his ability. No, Itachi just didn't take him seriously. Still viewed him as that foolish, weak child.

"Not enough," came the soft whisper, oddly detached. He could feel a fingertip running down his neck, following the line of his jugular.

Sasuke urged his body to move, screaming inside that his hate should be more than enough to move disobedient limbs. Right now, he could very easily land a blow on his brother. Anything to validate himself. Anything to destroy the impossible vulnerability of lying there like this with Itachi.

When he felt the hand upon his stomach, muscles shuddered into tightness, bellybutton pulling down as if trying to sink not just to but also through the floor beneath him. Eyes finally dared to open only to find that Itachi wasn't looking him in the face. Rather, his brother's gaze was focused on the patch of skin he had just exposed. He was startlingly white in the dim lighting of the room, like moonlight playing with shadow. Not something he had ever noticed before really, but with his brother's midnight clad figure over him, the darkness of the polish on his nails. . . And suddenly the image of china shattering ricocheted about in his mind. How easily his brother could break him.

Or any number of other things. Like the way his skin prickled now as fingers skated up his center, pulling up his shirt with each push forward. His heart gave a loud thud, one that boomed in his mind. It wasn't until tongue pushed against his lips that he realized they had parted.

Something was telling him to stop this. _Violation._ Hadn't he suffered enough already? But before the words could launch themselves out of his throat, Itachi had him by the neck. Slaughtered the sound before it could even become thought. Sasuke gave a strangled gargle at the suddenness of it all.

Whatever Itachi knew of lust, it wasn't that fire-scalding, shameless thing that consumed most people. It was quiet. Harsh and unsympathetic, knowing only of what he wanted and that he would have it. One hand at his brother's throat, he resumed exploiting the flesh that had been uncovered.

And it was then that some semblance of life flooded Sasuke's limbs. The instinct to survive could overcome almost anything, and his own hands were now upon his brother's wrist, tugging violently at the hand that sought to suffocate him.

Itachi answered by clamping down even further. To bruise. To mark. So that when this was all over and done with, Sasuke could look in the mirror and see the reminders. _I let you live once again._ But something was always taken in the process.


	2. Chapter 2

He could feel it, bubbling in his throat, itching for release. That child's cry of _Stop. Please Stop_. He hated that too, hated how he had once been that boy prepared to beg for his life shamelessly. Like nothing else mattered. Because in that moment of terror, nothing else ever did.

_Survive_ That's what it told him. Just as his brother had all those years ago, when they had last fought like this, and he had laid there, bleeding and sobbing. A pathetic son. A worthless son. His father's gaze at that moment had said as much. Perhaps it had been meant for Itachi, but Sasuke could hardly forget when those dark eyes passed over him before the orders were issued and his mother came rushing to his side.

But even worse had been his brother's words. Callously calling out all that he had been in that moment. A foolish coward who knew too much of love. A soul cast only in that innocent light could never conquer anything, least of all himself.

And he had always been an emotional boy as far as Uchiha standards went. Even now that aspect of himself – that part he had fought so hard to control – was begging for voice in this affair. Maybe. .. maybe Itachi would listen. If he just told him to stop, if he just hinted at his fear fear that grew rock hard and immovable in the pit of his stomach then maybe his brother would stop.

Sasuke could never allow that though. Never again would he fail in such a blatant manner. No, he would be perfect. Perfectly still. Perfectly impassive. He wouldn't cry, wouldn't whimper. But when he stared into those eyes – beautifully cold and as treacherous as black ice – he knew that it was impossible. Itachi would strip him of everything, would lay him bare and read every emotion he sought to cover up.

The more he looked into those eyes, the more the life drained from him. Hands that had so furiously tried to detach his brother's from his throat began to ease away. Slipping one by one, fingers twitched against Itachi's wrist. _He could kill me._ Suddenly, it was as though his lungs had clamped shut, deflated completely and refused to admit any more oxygen. Sasuke gave a horror-induced gasp as eyes widened.

The pressure around his throat decreased though fingers remained ever vigilant against it. It was then he remembered their house cat, a gorgeous black tom a favorite of their father oddly enough, on some nameless summer night several years ago when he had stumbled upon the feline pinning down a field mouse. Claws would extend when the mouse moved, only to retract a moment later. Over and over he had watched that play, and the minute he had made to scare the cat off and free the mouse, Itachi had stopped him. _That is life, Sasuke._

Heat flared over his stomach, spilling up from his groin where Itachi's other hand now worked. A slow, calculated movement that ran over his cock. A touch he had never granted to anyone.

Again, his mind urged his body into action, but nothing resulted. He felt hollow. The minute he realized where, what his brother was touching all resistance was silenced. Replaced with a vacant echo of _why_. And his eyes asked that of his brother.

Itachi turned his gaze away. Not an admission of guilt, but rather a dismissal of such a blame-laden question. Instead, he dipped his head down and bit roughly at the younger boy's collarbone. "You will remember this day."

Infringing hand gave a languid pump, and Sasuke could feel his muscles freezing. Since when. . .

"Nii. . . ."

Lips slammed shut before any other sound of protest could come out. If Itachi had heard, he gave no indication of it. Simply kept running his hand along Sasuke's growing erection. He didn't even lift his head, could hardly be bothered to acknowledge such a pitiful lapse in defense. As if Sasuke's failure to touch him during their previous match hadn't been disappointment enough. Fingers tightened around the younger boy's hardness.

It was then that the tears threatened. Between the pain ravaging his body made all the more unbearable by the stiffness claiming his limbs and his brother's transgressions, Sasuke could barely hold those salt-stemmed declarations from budding amongst his lashes. Finally, in a last-ditch effort, he shut his eyes.

What more exquisite torment could his brother have imagined? And he could only blame himself. He was the one that had rashly come after his brother, had called him out as though he honestly had the power to defeat a true prodigy. Tainted efforts could hardly be expected to win over God-given talent. Itachi was right. . . it still wasn't enough. 

In his mind, Sasuke consoled himself with a quiet mantra of hate. _This will be paid back in full._ It was all he could accept. Because this was worse than begging for an immediate end. He was hard, made that way by his own brother, and it was threatening him with the most basic of pleasures the kind that could tear a man down without a hint of remorse.

There was no way he could condone this. Never. And he knew the only way to stop this was to do so. Because the minute he gave in, the minute he willfully opened his mouth and moaned, he knew Itachi would stop.

And so he remained stock-still, lips melted together. Not a word. Not a movement. Only the steady breathing of Itachi against his neck and the spiraling warmth in his stomach.


End file.
